


Every Stumble & Each Misfire

by asocialfauxpas (fuzzytomato)



Category: Eyewitness (US TV)
Genre: Allusions to Suicide, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-05
Updated: 2016-11-05
Packaged: 2018-08-29 03:00:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8472871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuzzytomato/pseuds/asocialfauxpas
Summary: All Philip wants is to find Lukas alive. Anything else is a bonus.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [eldee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eldee/gifts).



> My dearest friend requested a Happy Ever After for Lukas and Philip. This is my attempt to give it to her. (also thanks for the beta eldee!)
> 
> At this point - only the first three episodes of Eyewitness have aired. I have not seen any spoilers and am only guessing. This will surely be jossed. Also, I have not seen, nor have read anything about, the series Eyewitness is based off of. Any similarities are coincidental and not meant as spoilers.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

Philip crept into the abandoned building. In the deepening dusk, the colors inside were soft, muted, the shadows long and deep. Dying light slanted through the windows, illuminating the space enough for Philip to see, but just barely. He squinted into the gloom, ducking low, the door behind him creaking to a close as he tried to spy any evidence that someone had been there.

“Lukas,” he whispered.

The place had been a feed and seed store a decade ago. Remnants of shelving stood in odd angles. Hay clung to the floor and the hem of Philip’s jeans as he maneuvered around detritus and old signage. The scent of stale horse feed and dust pricked his nose, and reminded him of the barn at Helen and Gabe’s.

“Lukas,” he said again, louder this time, a little more worry creeping into his voice.

No response.

Lukas had gone missing. Well, his dad was saying Lukas had run away. Of course, it had to be that he ran, disgracing the family like he had, sneaking around with Philip, tanking the motorcross race. He’d been off since his mom had died, _troubled_ , and his dad was just waiting for Lukas to do something stupid. That was the official word, straight from Bo’s mouth to the town’s ears.

Lukas wouldn’t run away.

He wouldn’t just _leave_. He wouldn’t leave Philip.

And where could Lukas go? He wouldn’t make it a day in the city alone. Not without Philip.

The text had come to Philip’s phone that morning. A plea for help. The address of the store off Route 9. The time to come. Alone. Don’t tell anyone.

Lukas had stood too close to the edge of the top of the school that day, peering down at the asphalt with a vacant expression, and it had scared Philip. He always looked like he was fighting, like he shouldn’t want to kiss Philip that badly, like he was tortured trying to figure himself out. He was conflict in the flesh. Lukas had made rash decisions in the past. It wouldn’t take much to push him, not after the turkeys, not after the race, not after the flashbacks to that day.

Philip bit his lip. His heart beat hard, his pulse a thump under his skin. Tommy and Tracy were dead. Those men in the shack were dead. That girl Helen had been looking for was dead. He couldn’t handle it if….

Fuck, he was stupid. He should’ve told Gabe. He should’ve told Helen. He could’ve left a note with Tony. Anything. He shouldn’t be here alone. Fuck.

Philip turned a corner and stopped in his tracks, his eyes adjusting to the darker area. There was something on the floor, a shape in the shadows, and in the lone patch of light, Philip recognized the flannel shirt.

Lukas.

“Oh no,” he said, voice low. “Oh no.”

He ran forward, sneakers scuffing through the dirt, and dropped to his knees, terrified of what he’d find.

Lukas lay limply propped against a wooden counter, out cold, his face tucked toward his shoulder, his hair limply hanging in his face. Philip clamped down on his fear, and gently slid a finger along Lukas’s jawline. Gently, he tipped Lukas’s head back, and bit down on a gasp. Duct tape stretched over his mouth. And that’s when Philip noticed Lukas’s hands tied behind his back. His face was bruised. Blood ran from a cut in his hairline, drops welling across the sharp edge of his cheek, down his chin. His eyes fluttered, but remained closed, even as Philip cradled his face in his hands.

“Lukas. Shit. Shit. Lukas. Wake up. Come on.” Philip patted Lukas’s cheek.

Lukas groaned, a soft pained sound. He moved and cried out from behind the tape, his eyes scrunching even tighter. Philip shushed him, quietly, afraid, overwhelmed, hoping against hope that what he thought may have happened didn’t.

“Hey, hey, it’s me. You’re safe.”

Lukas opened his eyes, then shook his head, noises erupting from his throat. His body squirmed, attempting to get upright, but he couldn’t. He listed to his right side, curled in a defensive posture.

“Hey, okay. Hold still.”

Philip fumbled with the edge of the tape, peeling it back slowly until he could grip it then, like a band aid, ripped it off.

Lukas cried out and Philip smothered the sound with his lips. One hand wrapped around the back of Lukas’s neck, the other looped under his arm, Philip clutched Lukas close, and kissed him. Desperate and relieved, even the taste of sour breath and duct tape couldn’t deter Philip from taking comfort in Lukas’s mouth, and pouring out his fear and joy at finding him.

Alive.

But Lukas pulled away, the back of his head banging on the counter.

“Run,” he said, chest heaving, words fuzzy but frantic. “It’s a trap. Run. He’s going to kill us.”

“What?”

“He knows. He knows it was us. Run. Leave. Please.”

Philip shook his head. “I’m not leaving without you.”

“I can’t.” Lukas’s breath hitched and he grimaced. “My leg.”

Philip cut his gaze to where Lukas’s legs stretched out. That’s why Lukas held his body stiff, why he bent over on one side. His left leg bent at an odd angle, and blood seeped in patches through his jeans.

“I’ll carry you.”

“No.” Lukas grimaced, shifted to raise his body, but ended up with his forehead planted at Philip’s collarbone. “Go.”

Philip reached into his hoodie pocket and pulled out his phone. He flipped to Helen’s number.

“I’ll call—”

Footsteps and then the click of a gun.

Philip froze. Lukas weakly fell back, his energy drained. His shoulder slammed into the linoleum floor and he turned wide, liquid eyes at Philip, mouthing _run_ over and over. 

Philip shook his head. Lukas had saved him, in more ways than one. The least he could do was stay.

He turned and stood, faced the kidnapper, and kept his body between Lukas and the gunman. It was the killer—the one Lukas nailed with the frying pan, the one who almost shot Philip that day in the cabin, the one who had killed Tommy, the one masquerading as an FBI agent.

“As much as I have enjoyed your little reunion, I need you to do something for me now.”

“Don’t,” Lukas said. “Don’t do it. He’s going to kill us anyway. Like he killed Tommy. Like he killed that girl.”

The FBI guy’s mouth turned down into a frown, and he narrowed his eyes. He held the gun firmly trained on Philip, but he cocked his head to the side, and slowly moved his hand until the barrel leveled at Lukas on the floor.

“Maybe. But are you willing to take that chance?”

“No,” Philip said, quickly. He licked his lips. “No. I’ll do it. What do you need me to do?”

The gunmen nodded his head toward Philip’s phone. “Call the Sheriff.”

Philp’s mouth went dry. His hands were sweaty as he clumsily scrolled to Helen’s number. “Okay.”

“Tell her you need help. Right now. Give her the address. Be convincing. Or….” He waved the gun. “I’ll make it painful for you both.”

“Okay.”

“Philip.” Lukas’s voice was weak and filled with pain. He said Philip’s name like a plea, but Philip couldn’t hear that right now. He couldn’t fail at this. He wouldn’t make another mistake.

He pressed the screen. The call went through.

Helen’s ringtone rang out in the warehouse.

The gunman was distracted for a moment, his attention turned toward the sound, and then a gunshot shattered the tense silence.

For a split second, Philip thought he’d been shot, and his breath whooshed out of him, his phone fell to the floor from numb fingers. He jerked away, expecting pain, or cold or… nothingness. A space of a breath later, Philip realized it wasn’t him. It wasn’t Lukas either.

Their assailant staggered backward, bright red blood blooming across the front of his shirt.

Another shot.

Then another.

Philip’s ears echoed with a high-pitched whine. His senses fuzzed out. His head spun as his knees went weak and he fell, his legs collapsing under him. Warm, wet liquid—blood spray his mind supplied—dribbled down his face, and he slumped back into a body.

Lukas.

He had to make sure Lukas was okay.

But he couldn’t move. He couldn’t…

Helen appeared from around a forgotten shelf, stepped from the shadows with her gun arm stiff, her badge catching the scant light. Her mouth moved, speaking into her walkie, but Philip couldn’t hear. She moved swiftly, kicked the killer’s gun across the floor, and bent down to check his vitals.

All the while she talked, a comforting cadence, a familiar sound, but damn if Philip could make out the words.

“Philip,” she said, her voice authoritative but strained. “Philip. Tell me you’re okay. Talk to me, son.”

Philip blinked.

“Helen?”

Then she was right there, filling up his vision, on her knees in the dusty floor.

“Hey, Philip,” she said, softly, her gaze searching his features, flickering over his body. She tugged the hem of his shirt, and lifted it to wipe away the red droplets on his face. “You’re okay.”

He nodded, quickly, fiercely, lips pressed together to hold in the sobs, and then her arms went around him, and he hugged her. He grasped her tight and buried his face in the stiff fabric of her Sheriff’s jacket and trembled.

Their first hug.

Philip shook and he cried and he held on. She whispered to him, petted his hair. She told him it was okay. She had him now. He was safe. He and Lukas were safe.

Lukas.

He turned his head slightly, and found Lukas watching them with glassy eyes, his arms still awkwardly bound behind his back, his mouth raw from the tape, a dark purple bruise slowly growing across his cheek and eye. Philip made a distressed sound, a sound he didn’t know he could make, helpless and terrified, and he jerked away from Helen. 

She let him go, no admonishment, no remark, merely shifted to reach for Lukas too. Lukas’s tears spilled over when she gently touched his shoulder and helped him into a sitting position. Taking a knife from her belt, she handed it off to Philip.

“Cut the tape,” she said.

Philip could do that. He could follow an order and he was grateful for something to do while the spent adrenaline fled his system, leaving him exhausted and used up, but wired, like a string pulled taut.

Helen murmured to Lukas as Philip worked. Her whole tone changed, her demeanor softer, and Philip marveled at the gentleness in her touch, the reassurance there, something he thought was reserved for Gabe. The transformation from Helen, Sheriff with the gun, to Helen, comforter to two scared boys was drastic, but genuine, and amazing.

Philip loved her.

He sliced through the bonds and Helen said, “Easy, easy,” as Lukas moved his arms, grunting in pain as his stiff joints moved. As soon as he could, Lukas grasped Philip’s hand in his own, held on tightly, in front of Helen, no hesitation. Philip met Lukas’s gaze and twined their fingers.

“Are you okay?” Helen asked.

Philip didn’t answer, struck dumb, his eyes locked on Lukas’s.

“Boys?”

There were sirens in the distance.

“We’ll be… We’ll be fine,” Philip said.

“Stay right here. Don’t move. I will be right back. I’m just going to tell the EMTs where we are.”

She stood, and hesitated.

Philip eyed her, the way she had her hands on her hips, the way her gaze strayed to the body a few feet away.

She didn’t want to leave them.

“We’ll be fine for a minute,” Philip said, clutching Lukas’s hand. “But only for a minute.” His voice cracked. “Hurry.”

She nodded then bent down and picked up Philip’s phone. She handed it to him. “I will be right back. I promise.”

Philip believed her.

As soon as she turned the corner, Philip lunged at Lukas and caught him in a bone crushing hug. Lukas grasped the side of Philip’s neck, his thumb grazing Philip’s hairline in a back and forth caress. Then Lukas kissed him, with a raw mouth, a nd tears mingling on their lips, kissed with an intensity and fervor that would’ve scared Philip if he hadn’t returned it in equal measure. They kissed, with their fingers intertwined, and with their futures stretched out in front of them, unknown and petrifying, but utterly safe in that moment.

Philip rested his forehead against Lukas’s.

“You didn’t leave.”

“Neither did you,” Lukas breathed. His brow furrowed. “I’m sorry. For everything. Philip, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. I was a dick to you. And I’m sorry.”

“Okay.” Philip accepted another kiss. “Don’t worry about it now.”

Lukas nodded, and slumped forward, face tucked into Philip’s shoulder, their hands firmly clasped.

And that’s how the EMTs found them.

-

Philip wasn’t allowed to ride in the ambulance. 

He wasn’t allowed to see Lukas at the hospital until after Tony had taken their statements, separately. And then again after the FBI talked with them. 

Helen wasn’t allowed to because of the conflict of interest, but Gabe stayed next to him the whole time.

It wasn’t until two days later, two sleepless nights full of nightmares later, that Philip stood outside of Lukas’s hospital room.

He hesitated, licked his lips. Gabe’s hand rested heavy on his shoulder. Helen was a stalwart comfort on his other side.

“Do you want to go in?” Helen asked.

Philip rocked forward on his feet, then back, hands in his pockets.

“Maybe we should wait until he’s discharged,” Gabe offered quietly.

“No,” Philip said, voice soft, but decisive. “No, I want to see him.”

“How about I knock?” Helen said. She was already moving before Philip answered, and for that he was grateful.

He didn’t know if Lukas even wanted to see him. He didn’t have any texts from him, and they basically outed their relationship in all the police interviews. Even if that damage had been partially done a few days ago, it was certain now.

And people died.

Died because they hadn’t spoken up.

Philip didn’t know if he could shake that, didn’t know if he was ever going to be able to look Tracey’s parents in the eye, or even sleep all the way through the night without his jacket on Tommy’s corpse appearing in a technicolor nightmare.

Philip vaguely heard Bo’s voice inviting them into the room. Philip followed Helen and Gabe, glad for once that Helen was as brusque as she was.

Philip lifted his gaze from his shoes to see Lukas in the bed, sitting up, but head bowed, hair obscuring his eyes. He picked at a thread in the blanket covering his lower body, his upper body clad in a hospital gown. The bruise on his face was still a livid blue in places, but fading to greenish-yellow around the edges. His leg was in cast from the knee down and suspended in a contraption that looked vaguely medieval.

He looked miserable.

Philip’s stomach clenched. Bile rose in his throat.

Helen put her hands on her hips, shoulders pulled back. “Hello, Bo. I thought we could drop by and let the boys see each other.”

Bo shook his head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Helen.” Lukas flinched. “I don’t think Lukas is up for visitors.”

Helen pointed at Lukas. “Well, he’s sitting right here. How about we ask him?” She walked in further. “Lukas, are you feeling well enough for a quick visit with Philip?”

Lukas shrugged.

Gabe crossed the room and patted Bo on the shoulder. “You look a little tense. Let me buy you a coffee and we let the boys talks.”

“I am not leaving my son alone with him.”

“I don’t think Gabe was asking,” Helen said, sharply. She raised an eyebrow.

After a moment of silence, Bo acquiesced. Gabe guided him out of the door, but before the door closed, he looked over his shoulder and winked.

Helen cracked a smile.

The edge of Philip’s mouth lifted.

“That was a little uncomfortable,” Helen said, addressing Lukas. “You okay?”

Lukas nodded. He rubbed a hand over his eyes and sniffled, and when he finally looked up, his eyes were red rimmed, and dark circles sat prominently under both eyes, though one was due to a vicious punch, the other was clearly from little sleep.

Philip knew the feeling. They matched.

“My dad is… dealing with things,” Lukas said softly. “He doesn’t know how to… act.”

Helen nodded. “I understand. All of this is tough. But that doesn’t mean you have to be miserable, Lukas.”

“I know.”

“Okay.”

Philip remained silent, watching the exchange. Helen wrapped an arm around his shoulders and squeezed.

“I’m going to stand outside the door.”

She left and Philip stood there, awkward, unsure. He noted the flowers on the shelf by the window, and a few balloons, and a stuffed teddy bear. He picked it up, toyed with it, and then bit his lip.

He threw it at Lukas. It hit him in the chest and bounced off. 

“Nice bear.”

Lukas huffed. “It’s from Rose.”

“Yeah? Does she still want to blow you?”

Lukas’s gave Philip a half-hearted smile. “Why? You jealous?”

“No,” Philip moved closer. He sat on the edge of the bed, unsure if he was welcome there. “You want me to be.”

“No,” Lukas said, shaking his head. He leaned back in the bed, tipped his face to the ceiling. “I don’t want you to be jealous.”

Philip’s eyebrows shot up. “You don’t?”

“No. I want you to be happy.”

Philip shifted closer. He covered Lukas’s hand with his own, where his fingers curled over the blanket. He reached out, and gently touched Lukas’s face, guiding Lukas to look at him finally, his fingertips grazing the bruise. He cupped Lukas’s jaw, ran his thumb over his bottom lip.

“You make me happy.”

“How can I? It’s my fault. It’s all my fault. People died because of—”

“Because of a serial killer.”

“Because I was afraid of what other people would think of me. Because of what my dad would think.” His lips trembled. “How can you like someone so shallow?”

Philip didn’t stop touching Lukas, dropping his hand to Lukas’s chest, his fingers splaying over Lukas’s collarbone, where the gown slipped down to reveal the curve of his shoulder.

“We both made mistakes. I was afraid too.”

“Of what?” Lukas’s voice cracked.

“Of losing another person I cared about.” Philip gulped. He leaned in and spoke low, heartfelt. “Of losing you.”

“I don’t want to be afraid anymore.”

“We don’t have to be.”

Lukas tentatively returned Philip’s touch, tracing Philip’s features with his fingertips, before giving in and pulling Philp closer, his hand firm and unyielding on the back of Philp’s neck. They kissed, Lukas trying to haul Philip onto the bed, but failing and Philip sprawled out gracelessly. Mindful of Lukas’s injuries, especially his leg, Philip did his best to keep anything from becoming too heated, since Helen stood outside of the door, but he couldn’t stop himself from running his hands over Lukas’s body, feeling him warm and whole under his palms. 

“I was so worried,” Philip gasped, mouthing the words into Lukas’s neck, “when you went missing. And when I found you, I thought… I felt….” Philip’s heart squeezed.

“I know. I know. When you didn’t run, when you faced him down. I felt it too.”

Philip pressed his smile to Lukas’s lips. “We’re safe.”

Lukas smiled, and there it was, Philip’s current reason for everything, to see the smile lines around Lukas’s mouth, to see his eyes crinkle. Philip could stare at Lukas smiling for the rest of his life and never be tired of it.

He pressed closer and caught Lukas’s mouth with his own, focused, intent.

The door opened slightly.

“Boys,” Helen said. “I’m coming in.”

Philip startled, jerked backward, and fell out of the bed.

Lukas laughed. He threw his head back, and wrapped his arms around his middle, and laughed.

It was the best sound Philip had heard in days. So good, he didn’t mind that his ass was going to be bruised.

Helen entered and pursed her lips to keep from smiling and stood over Philip with a knowing look. “I need to head to the office for a bit. Lukas, Gabe is going to take your dad home. Philip, do you want to stay for a while?”

Cheeks red, Philip stood and brushed off his jeans. “Sure.”

“Great. I’ll order you a pizza for dinner. If small town pizza is okay with you?”

Lukas shrugged. “Better than hospital food.”

“Pizza it is. I’ll have Tony bring it by. And boys? Don’t get kicked out of the hospital.”

Philip turned redder. Lukas looked away, lips pressed together to fight down his smile, a blush sweeping across his cheekbones.

“Yes, Helen.”

“Okay. I’ll be back in a few hours.” She tugged Philip in for a quick hug, arms strong and comforting around Philip’s frame. “Feel better, Lukas,” she said, when she let go.

“Thank you, Sheriff.”

The door closed again, and Philip hopped up on the bed, shouldered next to Lucas so they shared the pillow. He leaned over Lukas’s body and grabbed the remote off the bedside table, and settled in. Lukas reached over and took Philip’s free hand, pulling it into his lap, their fingers laced.

“I think the hospital has movie channels,” he said, casually, resting he head next to Philip’s on the raised pillow.

Philip smiled, happy and content with Lukas’s warmth along his side. “Awesome.”

-

After pizza, a bad romance movie—since neither one of them could stomach an action flick—and a visit from the night nurse with Lukas’s pain meds, followed by a few more kisses which tasted like pizza sauce and pepperoni, Philip fell asleep.

He woke when the door creaked open, and drowsily turned his head to find Helen and Gabe stepping in the room.

“Hey,” Helen said quietly.

Lukas slept on, head tipped onto Philip’s shoulder. The pain meds knocked him out before the end of the movie, and Philip had succumbed to exhaustion only a few minutes after.

“What time is it?”

“Late,” Gabe said. His tone was fond and he smiled, warm and soft. He closed the door quietly behind them, and together they approached the bed.

Helen wasn’t wearing her uniform, which meant she’d finished her work and had time to go home and change. Philip craned his neck to see the night sky and the full moon through the windows.

“Oh.”

Helen sat down in the chair by the bed side. Gabe stood behind her.

“You doing okay, son?”

Philip rubbed his eyes. “Yeah. I’m fine. Tired but fine.”

Helen lifted her chin toward Lukas. “How about him?”

“I don’t know.”

She hummed. “Gabe talked with Bo.”

Philip sucked in a panicked breath. That statement could mean anything. It was the definition of loaded. But before his imagination could run away from him, Helen continued.

“And we got Bo to agree to let Lukas stay with us for a while.”

Philip’s mouth dropped open, stunned. “What?”

“Just until Bo and Lukas work things out through counseling. And to give Lukas a safe place, free of judgment, and expectations,” Gabe said. He squeezed Helen’s shoulder and she reached up and patted his hand.

“Why?” He straightened in the bed. Lukas let out a low groan before settling back down, curling toward the other side, his movement restricted by his leg. “Why would you do that?”

“For you,” Helen said simply. “And him.”

Gabe leaned over and ruffled Philip’s bed head. “It’s what families do.”

“There’ll be rules,” Helen said, before Philip became too excited. “And counseling. And mandatory family time. And Bo has the right to ask Lukas to come home. But this is the plan for now. If Lukas agrees.”

“He’s afraid,” Philip said, a confession.

“We know. We’ll take care of him. Together.”

Philip carefully got out of the bed, not wanting to wake Lukas, but needing to show his gratitude, his affection. He hugged Gabe fiercely. Helen stood, and wrapped her arms around them both.

“Thank you,” Philip whispered. “Thank you.”

“We love you, kid,” Gabe said softly.

Helen pressed a kiss to Philip’s hair.

He smiled. “I know.”

They stayed that way for a long moment, and it wasn’t weird, not until Lukas murmured in his sleep.

Philip quickly checked to make sure Lukas was fine then he glanced at Gabe and Helen. “Can I stay?”

“For the night. They’ll discharge Lukas in the morning.” Gabe said it, and Helen frowned, cutting her gaze to Gabe. He merely shrugged.

She sighed. “Fine. You can stay. Do you need anything?”

“No, I’m good.” He smiled, bright and happy, exhausted, but for the first time in his life feeling like things were falling into place. “I’m really good.”

“Okay. Night, son.”

“Night.”

They left. Philips slipped off his shoes and climbed back in the bed, situated himself as best he could on the thin mattress. Lukas mumbled, and shifted. His head ended up on Philip’s chest, his arm thrown across Philip’s waist, his hair tickling Philip’s chin.

“Everything okay?” he said, not opening his eyes, his words slurred with sleep.

Philip kissed his hair. “Yeah.”

Lukas’s response was a soft snore.

Philip smiled. He settled down for the night, content and happy. He didn’t know what trials and worries would come in the morning, or what would happen between him and Lukas down the road. He didn’t know what would happen with his mom, if he would go back to the city or stay in the town. He didn’t know how the outcome of the investigation would affect them all.

What he did know, that in that moment, with Lukas next to him, and with Helen and Gabe a phone call away, he was happy. He was safe.

And everything was perfect.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on tumblr as asocialfauxpas. 
> 
> title is a reference to Bastille's Good Grief.


End file.
